


The Happy Knight

by Cerdic519



Series: When In Brome [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle - Various Authors
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anglo-Saxon, Brome - Freeform, Clothing Kink, Cock Rings, Coming Untouched, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark Ages, Deception, England (Country), F/M, Feels, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, Kissing, Knights - Freeform, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pet Names, Quests, Rescue, Restraints, Scheming, Teasing, The Romans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-19 08:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17598041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: It is the year that will later be known as 501 A.D. In  Dark Ages Britain where the Celts under King Arthur appear to be winning the battle to force the invading Saxons out, the handsome Sir Jaime of Calunis is seemingly the perfect knight, the high-born warrior admired by men and loved by women (and men). However the young paladin secretly yearns for the roguish sellsword Sir Bronn of the Black Water – and as they say, secrets will out.....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wholocker78218](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholocker78218/gifts).



**Luguvalium¹ (Cumberland, north-west England)**  
**376 miles to Ethling² (Hampshire, southern England)**

Sir Jaime of Calunis³ strode quickly through the streets of the town, eager to get out of the driving rain even if he doubted the news he was going to hear would be good. He had just learned that his son Gerard had been kidnapped while visiting King Arthur's court at Camelot which was why he was going to see the local wise-man Talon who, he knew, was a friend of Arthur's court mage Merlin.

Jaime suspected that Talon was no mean magician himself, mainly from his small tumbledown hut along the road between the town and the wall fort just north of it. Set down a little side-track there seemed nothing to stop wild animals from straying into it or people from helping themselves to his well-kept vegetable and herb gardens, yet from the pristine nature of the place very clearly none ever did. He hoped that the fellow had at least some abilities; he needed his son alive!

The door to the hut opened when Jaime was barely two foot away from it, and Talon appeared looking even more care-worn than usual. He yawned as he beckoned the knight inside.

“Communicating over three hundred miles takes it out of you”, he sighed. “Yes, I have news. Your boy is safe enough but.... that is pretty much where the good news ends. Sit you down, boy.”

Jaime was twenty-six years of age but did not correct him. He sat and waited anxiously.

“I had better start with your half-sister Cersei”, Talon began.

The knight winced. That woman – she was no lady that was for sure - was insatiable and had once got him so drunk that he had ended up in her bed. The son that she had had nine months later, Geoffrey, was most likely his but any hopes she might have had of anything more had been blown to the four winds; Jaime had not been able to get far enough away from her fast enough. She had followed Sir Lancelot, Jaime's first cousin, south to Camelot and.....

His eyes widened in horror.

“My son!” he exclaimed. 

“Not that!” Talon reassured him. “Hell the boy is only ten years of age, too young even for that bitch. And as for Lancelot, he knows full well what she is like. No, she discovered that a son of Joyous Gard would create a dynasty that would rule in these islands. She knew it could never be Lancelot's boy; Galahad is too pure and chaste to know a woman in any sense of the word, so it had to be either Geoffrey or Gerard.”

Gerard, Jaime's (other) son from a woman he had met while fleeing from Cersei. May had died giving birth to the boy and Lancelot had insisted on raising him as a full family member. That, unfortunately, had led to Gerard recently having to travel to Camelot in order to explain why Sir Lancelot was not really hiding out from a Queen Guinevere who had made his time there so uncomfortable that keeping the ravaging Picts the other side of the wall had seemed a much more attractive option. Jaime had wanted to go with his son but there had just been another major raid so he could not.

“They were receiving a delegation of the Jutish _gewisse⁴_ who have ensconced themselves at the western edge of the Shore⁵”, Talon said. “Cersei used her friendship with Guinevere – a tarts' alliance, one might cruelly if accurately say – to use the son as surety, allowing the Jutes to take him with them.”

Jaime put his head in his hands.

“I have to go and get him back”, he said. “Can it be done?”

“Yes.....”

The knight stared at the fellow. That presaged a definite 'but' in someone's immediate future.

 _”However”_ , Talon said, “you will need help. Only one man can aid you in this quest and his aid will not be easy to secure.”

Even as he said it Jaime could feel his heart sinking.

“Bronn?” he asked. Talon nodded.

“Sir Bronn of the Black Water”, he said. “I do not know what his price will be but I rather suspect that it will be a high one. Although the Jutes will not harm the fellow; they know it would bring Arthur's wrath upon them if they did especially with things the way they are just now⁶.”

Jaime nodded.

“Thank you”, he said dully.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Some little time after the young knight had gone Talon re-established the connection to his friend some three hundred miles away.

“Well?” Merlin asked anxiously, his voice buzzing slightly over the magical connection.

“I did not like lying to him”, Talon said coolly, “but yes. He took the bait.”

“Sorry you had to do that”, Merlin said. “You had better start arranging the 'supplies' that his friend will need for their journey.”

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Notes:  
1\. Carlisle. It had originally been Caer Luguwaljon, the fortress of the Celtic messenger-god Lugus. A town adapted by the Romans to serve the Hadrian's Wall fortress across the River Eden, now the suburb of Stanwix.  
2\. Jaime Lannister's destination. More when he gets there but it is on the Hampshire coast near modern Southampton.  
3\. Lancaster, Lancashire. Both modern and Latin names feature the local river, the Lune, itself likely named from a Celtic god Ialonius whose functions are unknown. Lancaster was one of many towns to be later used as a fortified place by the Saxons hence the addition of the suffix _-castra_ , Latin for fort.  
4\. Basically sellswords who worked on longer-term contracts. Provided they got paid, otherwise they might start working for themselves, as these had done.  
5\. The Saxon Shore, a coastal strip established by the Romans after Britannia twice broke away from Imperial rule in the late third century A.D. Germanic settlers, mostly Saxons, were allowed to settle between the Isle of Wight and the Wash Estuary in return for defending their lands against other incomers. Despite the name several different Germanic tribes had been settled along it; the Jutes as their name suggests came from Jutland in modern Denmark.  
6\. 501 was the year after Arthur's forces had crushed a combined army of Saxons and Jutes from the two new kingdoms at the Battle of Badon (possibly Badbury, Wiltshire). Sussex would never really recover from this defeat and Kent would be severely weakened for some time.

† † † † † † † † † † † †


	2. Chapter 2

**Luguvalium (Cumberland, north-west England)**   
**376 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

For all that he was the image of the chivalric knight, Sir Jaime of Calunis sometimes found himself hating what his profession had become. King Arthur was all honour and noble deeds on the surface but, the young knight knew, all too ready to resort to darker arts as well as to overlook his wife's sluttish behaviour. Jaime increasingly found himself preferring the straighter dealings of his friend Sir Bronn who was a sellsword without pretence and whose skills had greatly improved Jaime's own fighting abilities. Besides the fellow was good to be around, not caring for anything much provided he got his gold.

On the downside Jaime knew that Bronn despised his high-born status and cultured way of talking, and that he resented the way that the younger knight had had things relatively easy in life. But then the fellow had been sympathetic when he had told him about his son so perhaps he might go along, even if it would likely cost Jaime his whole income from the next year. Plus at thirty Bronn must be looking to start putting aside money for his retirement, surely?

The sellsword lived in a small room in the wall fort just north of the town and Jaime was still trying to work out a way of phrasing his request when he knocked at his door. At least the fellow was not out whoring, although Jaime had noticed that Bronn had not been putting himself about as much lately, especially since they had got back from their journey to the other end of the wall a year back. He had remarked on that and the sellsword had just said that at his great age he needed all his energy to stay in shape since his livelihood (and life) depended on that. That had made sense.

Jaime knocked at the door.

“Come!”

He entered, and promptly balked. Bronn was in alright – in and talking a bath. The sellsword arched an eyebrow at him from his tub.

“'Tis the high-born Sir Jaime!” he grinned. “Wondered when _you_ might turn up; news of your son's taking has been around town for hours now.”

Jaime silently cursed the ever-efficient gossip network.

“Talon says that my best chance of getting him back would be if you were to accompany me”, he said, not looking at that lithe body. Bronn may have described himself as having 'the ugliest face both sides of the Narrow Seas' but that body was solid muscle as Jaime knew from the times they had fought together. 

The thought crossed Jaime's mind that he had ogled said body on more than one occasion, ever since he had seen the sellsword naked while they had been cleaning off in the sea together after the conclusion to their last venture about a year back.

Bronn chuckled at his sudden introspection.

“You mean that Talon told you I'm your _only_ chance”, he grinned brightly. “As if you wouldn't have gone to anyone else if you could've done.”

“I trust you”, Jaime said. “I don't trust anyone else.”

He was mortified at his sudden attack of foot-in-mouth disease, but was more than distracted when Bronn smiled lazily and stood up. The younger knight suddenly found the room rather warm.

“You promise a lot, Jaime boy”, the sellsword said seemingly uncaring of his nakedness. “I think if I'm going to put my neck on the line for you again, I'm going to want something rather more solid for security than your usual soft words and easy promises.”

“Name it”, Jaime said, trying not to look down to where the sellsword was already half-hard.

“You.”

Jaime just stared at him. Bronn, being Bronn, stared back. Still naked.

“What do you mean, me?” Jaime asked, confused.

“Come on”, Bronn grinned. “Don't even try to deny there's something between us, some sort of spark. You never wanted to hire a sellsword to use his other weapon on you?”

Said other weapon was rising to attention, Jaime noticed.

“No!”

Bronn just chuckled.

“Hesitation!” he said. “Here's the deal. All the way to the south coast you do whatever I want, no questions asked.”

Jaime was horrified! Absolutely no way was he going to....

“Alright.”

Apparently Sir Jaime of Calunis had said that. Bronn somehow contrived to smirk even wider.

“How soon can we be off?” Jaime asked. “It is my son.”

“Sellswords don't kill pledges, not with our love for gold”, Bronn said easily. “I reckon twelve days to make the trip; we can start two days from now.”

“We can do it much faster, surely?” Jaime challenged.

Bronn just laughed.

“With some of the things I've got lined up for you, Jaime boy?” he said darkly. “Thirty or so miles a day will be pushing it. Which reminds me, bring your padded saddle.”

Jaime was about to snark something back at that when Bronn got out of the bath. The younger knight's gaze stared again at his now fully erect cock. He coughed – it was not a whine whatever any bastard sellsword claimed later – and looked up to find that trademark smirk was even wider.

“As I said”, Bronn grinned, “padded saddle. That body of yours is mine, high-born, and I intend to take _full_ advantage of it!”

† † † † † † † † † † † †


	3. Chapter 3

**Brocavum¹ (Westmorland, north-west England)**   
**357 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

At least it was high summer, Bronn thought as the two men rode south along the overgrown road. The going was not too bad and they had just passed a small settlement with clear evidence of buildings having been repaired with Roman stones. 

“Brocavum is over there”, Jaime said as they splashed through the river with ease. “A fort town.”

“You're not just a pretty face”, Bronn grinned. “And the view of that arse is mighty fine from back here.”

Sir Jaime of Calunis really did blush very easily for a high-born, Bronn thought. He had found himself attracted to the fellow for over a year now, ever since they had cleaned off in the sea after their last venture together at the far end of the great wall and he had caught the fellow glancing more than once at his body (hello, sellsword, unobservant equals dead). To say he'd been surprised would have been an understatement – Bronn was physically fit but his body was scarred from the many battles he'd mostly won, and his face had so many broken parts he avoided spending too long looking in mirrors in case he broke them. Yet one of the most beautiful men in these islands had been looking at him. Life was weird at times.

The annoying thing from the sellsword's point of view was that he had gotten thus far in life very well without developing the slightest emotional attachment to anyone, yet ever since that time his own sexual encounters had rapidly tailed off to... well, zero. Women just didn't do it for him any more and the thought of a man would just be unfair to.... damn the cunt for being so beautiful!

He'd pay for it this trip. Good and hard!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

**Calacum² (Lancashire, north-west England)**  
 **331 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

“This is a decent place”, Jaime said as the old road crossed a track as it ran south by a small, tumbling river. The remains of a small settlement had been almost cleared, leaving only a few stones to mark the Roman presence in the dale.

“Quiet”, Bronn agreed. “This is the sort of place I'd like to have my castle some day, lording it over the serfs away from all that bloody politics.”

“You'd be bored rigid in weeks”, Jaime said.

“'Course I'd need a distraction”, Bronn agreed. “Better start getting in some practice on that high-born frame of yours. In fact that barn ahead looks a good place to rest for the evening – not that you'll be getting much rest!”

Jaime blushed. Oh yes. He'd kind of forgotten about that.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

In the many battles that Bronn had fought and won in his time, he'd long learned the advantage of unsettling his opponent. A sharp word or some other distraction often gained time for that critical first strike and an advantage that he rarely if ever yielded.

When he'd met Talon the day before their departure the fellow had provided him with a bag of things some of which had surprised even the sellsword. But he'd also reminded Bronn that despite the obvious differences, he and Jaime did have one thing in common.

“Women use you both”, he had said. “You're the experienced lover, a good fuck with no strings attached and who will be off and away the next morning. Jaime is what they regard as husband material on the surface, someone they could mould to make what they want given time. In all his time he has never yet found anyone who has loved him for what he is now rather than what they want him to be.”

“At least he has the looks”, Bronn had said curtly.

“But as you once said they can be a curse as much as a blessing”, Talon had said. “No-one has ever loved him for being Sir Jaime of Calunis; they all want the looks, the lands, the title and the happy ever after, always on their terms and never on his. You are actually happier in your life than he is in his.”

Bronn was thinking of that as both men stripped off. Normally they would have slept clothed in preparation for any disturbance but with the horses where they were it would quickly become clear if anyone approached the place. Besides the younger knight blushed so prettily when the sellsword eyed his semi-hard cock and licked his lips.

“How do you want me?” Jaime said.

The nervousness in his voice was palpable. Bronn smiled lazily.

“Just lie down like normal”, he said. “We've slept together dozens of times, my liege.”

That was true but they had never been naked like this. As Bronn eased in behind Jaime he could feel the tension in the younger man's body.

“Relax”, he said, his own cock nestling against the younger man's crack. “I've never taken a woman against her will and I'm not going to start doing it with my first ever man.”

He felt Jaime tense even more.

”You've never done it with a man before?” Jaime asked incredulously. “But I thought.....”

“Never found a man I wanted to do it with”, Bronn said dismissively. “Rest now, my liege.”

Slowly he felt the tension bleed out of the younger knight's body, as Jaime instinctively molded his body into that of the sellsword. Despite that delicious scent Bronn was not that hard; it was good to feel the other knight relax although the happy sigh he gave as he nestled in even closer was...... ugh, he'd have to use the word, heart-breaking. He wrapped both his arms around Jaime's body and drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Notes:  
1\. Now the village of Brougham, Westmorland, near modern Penrith. Once an important place where three roads and two rivers met and later the site of a large castle. Both the English and Latin names mean 'strong place'.  
2\. Now the tiny hamlet of Nether Burrow, Lancashire. The word referred to an often temporary settlement; the Romans built many of these as they expanded their control of Britannia.

† † † † † † † † † † † †


	4. Chapter 4

**Calunis (Lancashire, north-west England)**   
**309 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

“Why do we need to divert here?” Jaime asked as they rode into a small and rather decrepit port.

“Don't even recognize your homelands?” Bronn grinned. “This is Calunis, where your family came from before they moved into Britannic politics.”

Jaime looked around the place. There was a single boat tied up at the quay on the river which, he guessed, led out to the sea and on to Hibernia. The place was hardly bustling with life.

“It's only a mile or so off the road”, Bronn said, “and besides I always wanted to have you in your home town.”

The younger knight winced at the prospect even if one part of him whose timing sucked was clearly all too thrilled at the prospect. And the sellsword looked unusually happy that morning, his usual wary face replaced by a more relaxed one. It made him look almost beau.....

Sir Jaime of Calunis was in such trouble!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

They found little of interest in the place, although Jaime was glad to have come here as he had sometimes wondered about the place. They travelled on a short distance and soon came to a deserted house on top of a hill overlooking the harbour. Bronn set about getting food from their packs while Jaime tried to ignore the sellsword's annoying smirk. It was hard.

It wasn't the only thing!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Some hours later he was again naked and in the sellsword's arms. It was disturbing how right that felt.

“I almost just wish you would get on and fuck me”, Jaime sighed.

Bronn chuckled. 

“Patience, princess”, he said. “That'll happen and believe you me, you'll know when it does. First things first.”

He lifted a vial of some sort of oil for the younger knight to see. Jaime made the (perfectly and totally justifiable) mistake of being distracted and was about to ask what that was for when he found out as an oiled finger pushed into him. He cried out in shock.

“This is gonna take some time”, Bronn frowned. “I think for now we'd better settle for working you open a bit. I can bring in the Bronnster tomorrow.”

Despite himself Jaime chuckled.

“You named your dick 'The Bronnster?” he said, both enjoying the other man's blush and proud that he himself could manage words with said other man's finger up his arse. Bronn was working slowly around inside him and grinned back.

“Better than you calling this King James The Mighty when you think no-one's looking!” he chuckled, enjoying the younger man's blush as he first worked his other hand around Jaime's already hard cock then gently up and down it. 

The younger knight moaned and rolled his head back, relishing the sensation. That was his second mistake; Bronn suddenly found what he was looking for inside as his finger pressed down on something and Jaime came like he had never come before, the sellsword milking his painfully hard cock until he was done and gasping for breath.

“Welcome to the Pleasure Dome!” Bronn chuckled. “Now the second thing you can think about is what it'll feel like when I get the Bronnster pounding against it.”

Jaime shuddered at the prospect.

“And the first?” he asked tentatively.

Bronn grinned brightly and began to once more work Jaime's cock which, incredibly, was getting hard again despite his having just attempted to come his brains out through it. The younger knight groaned as the intrusive finger teased its target; he was amazed he could even think bearing in mind where most of his blood was just now. 

He was not going to survive this!

† † † † † † † † † † † †


	5. Chapter 5

**Bremetennacum¹ (Lancashire, north-west England)**   
**275 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

There was a track running south from Calunis but it was in poor condition, and they found after only a mile that a flood had subsumed part of it. Bronn suggested cutting across country to resume the old main road and they did so, reaching another abandoned settlement where they stopped for a late lunch.

“You're the brains of this outfit”, Bronn grinned. “And the looks for that matter. Know this place?”

Jaime huffed at his gentle teasing. It was hard to reconcile the happy sellsword with the bastard who was responsible for certain body parts feeling damn sore this morning.

“Bremetennacum”, he said. You can see from the lands around, even though they've been abandoned, that it was a veteran's settlement.”

“A what?” Bronn asked.

“What made the Roman army so effective”, Jaime said. “Men had a part of their pay kept back, then when they retired they got that and a plot of land; naturally they liked to settle with their fellow former soldiers.”

“All men together”, Bronn said, somehow managing to make the younger knight blush.

“It was a good idea”, Jaime said. “Perhaps you should do the same?”

“You can hold back my pay if you like”, Bronn said laconically. “I'll just take my due in.... other ways.”

Jaime blushed again.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Bronn suggested stopping so they could wash off the dirt of travel in the river that ran south of the abandoned town. Jaime noticed to his annoyance that he no longer thought twice about looking at the sellsword's body, and the bastard's smirk at his being caught ogling him was as annoying as ever. 

Not that it stopped him looking.

They found a fairly serviceable abandoned house just off the road, clearly an outlying building of the nearby ruined villa which had been pillaged of nearly all its stone. Bronn brushed against the younger knight as they set things up for the night and Jaime blushed again. His body was horrible, betraying him like this.

“It could be worse”, Bronn muttered as he fished in his pack for something or other.

“How?” Jaime asked not at all testily.

Bronn found what he was looking for and pulled them out to show his friend. Jaime was surprised that he was able to stand up considering where most of his blood was headed, and it sure wasn't his _upper_ brain.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

The sellsword was a teasing bastard of the first order, Jaime had decided. He had made full use of a handy cross-beam and the younger knight's hands were now cuffed around it by the handcuffs that some bastard 'just happened to have brought along'. Oh and he was naked, which was the second most embarrassing thing to happen to him that evening. So far.

The first by the way was King James The Mighty at full mast. Seriously, he could have done press-ups with the thing!

“Very nice”, Bronn said, walking around the trapped knight. The sellsword was naked except for his boots; Jaime didn't know why (at least with what was left of his brain) but incredibly that turned him on even more. He whined and writhed but he was going nowhere.

Bronn moved round behind him and began nuzzling the younger knight's crack with his own erect cock, making Jaime try to shift back to get some more of that delicious friction. And then the bastard actually moved away from him!

“I _like_ this game”, Bronn said, moving close enough so he could whisper but was not touching the trembling mess hung before him. “I think we could play it for quite a few nights, eh Jaime?”

The Lion of Calunis shuddered. That would surely kill him!

“Please!” he begged.

“Please what?” Bronn teased. Jaime didn't hesitate.

“Fuck me you bastard!” he ground out. “I need you inside me now!”

“Maybe”, Bronn said. “Tomorrow I think you might be ready for me. But tonight I'm just gonna... play with you!”

And with that he reached round with both hands and flicked lightly at Jaime's nipples. The younger knight screamed and went off like a rocket, his spend flying out in creamy jets across the floor. 

He heard the sellsword chuckle in his ear.

“One”, he muttered.

Jaime's eyes opened even wider as, with Bronn's cock nestling against his crack, his own cock began to grow hard again. Oh Lord no!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Oh Lord yes!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Notes:  
1\. Ribchester, the fort by the River Ribble. When it was resettled in Saxon times the church was built on the Roman site; the current Grade One Listed building is 13th century. The Roman name meant 'the hill-top settlement'.

† † † † † † † † † † † †


	6. Chapter 6

**Mamucium¹ (Lancashire, north-west England)**   
**238 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

Tonight Bronn was _finally_ going to fuck him, the bastard had made a point of telling him this morning. Jaime still found it hard to believe. 

Again it wasn't the only thing he found hard. Riding had been _painful!_

They were in a small settlement which seemed to have done better than most and had found a tavern that served... well, they called it beer. Jaime had his doubts.

“Breasts.”

Jaime nearly spat out his beer. The sellsword sat blithely next to him looking unperturbed at the younger knight's reaction to his outburst.

“What?” Jaime managed, wiping his mouth.

“That's what the name of this place means”, Bronn grinned. “A breast-shaped hill. I know some things apart from how to make a handsome man blush like a girl.”

“I do _not_ blush like a girl!” Jaime said hotly. Bronn leaned over to him.

“You will later!” he promised. “All over!”

Jaime shuddered.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

**Some way south of Mamucium**  
 **225 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

Grown men do not cry. That is an established fact. So it was clearly the dust in the abandoned house they had found some way off the road that was making Jaime weep buckets.

And he hadn't even been fucked yet!

This was so far from what he'd been expecting from the sellsword that..... even if he had been able to speak words would have failed him. Bronn had been gentle, almost caring as he had worked first one, then two and finally three fingers into the younger knight, while the great Sir Jaime of Calunis had lain on his back with his legs in the air like a common whore. And all that crying and begging for the older knight to get on with it? His manliness was probably on a ship to Gaul by now!

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jaime moaned, impressed that he had been able to manage a whole sentence. 

The silence that followed was unnerving as the sellsword looked to be struggling for the rights words. The horrible thought crossed what was left of Jaime's mind that the bastard might actually stop, leaving him unsatisfied. He looked pleadingly at his tormentor.

“I've fucked many women”, Bronn said conversationally as if talking about one's sexual conquests mid-coitus was somehow socially acceptable. “More than I care to remember. But you know what, kitten? I never fucked anyone that I actually _loved.”_

Jaime was trying to form an objection to that 'kitten' when Bronn spoke again.

“Until now.”

Jaime was so shocked that he didn't even notice the invasive fingers had been withdrawn. He stared at the sellsword, dumbfounded.

“You..... me.....”

“Come on”, Bronn sighed, looking almost pensive for a naked man in a barn with his cock poised at another man's entrance. “Don't tell me the Lion of Calunis doesn't know the effect he has on men _and_ women. They all want to either be you or have you fuck them.”

“Yes, for their pleasure more than mine”, Jaime said bitterly. “None of them loved me for what I am.”

Bronn smiled strangely. Jaime suddenly felt something very hard at his entrance

“As I said”, the sellsword muttered, “until now.”

He began to push in. The pain was agonizing at first but the calloused hands playing across his chest helped the younger knight bear it and soon the agony became a warm sense of fulfillment that left Jaime floating in his own private heaven, as Bronn bottomed out with a contented sigh.

“Tomorrow I am gonna fuck you good and proper, kitten”, he promised. “But tonight, your first time, I want you to get used to being stuck on my dick before I start shredding your insides. Upsy-daisy!”

And with that he wrapped his arms around Jaime's broad back pulling the younger knight to him, then stood up. The angle meant that his cock caught that special place inside Jaime and the younger knight erupted, his cock a geyser splattering come across both their chests. He stared at Bronn in amazement, and before he could think what he was about he reached across and kissed him.

For a horrible moment he thought that he'd gone too far, then the other knight kissed him back fiercely. It was some time before Jaime realized that Bronn had managed to stand up and was slowly walking him around the place, making the younger knight's cock hard again despite just having had one of the longest orgasms he had ever experienced.

Hot damn!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Notes:  
1\. Manchester. Established as a Roman garrison town to keep an eye on the nearby civilian Celtic settlements in modern Salford and Stretford. Bronn is quite right about the Latin derivation but as it was a smutty one you probably guessed that!

† † † † † † † † † † † †


	7. Chapter 7

**Condate¹ (Cheshire, north-west England)**   
**218 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

“Told you you'd be glad you brought that padded saddle along!”

Jaime glared at his tormentor. Yeah, he was glad for the saddle without which he'd have to have been leading his horse, but _someone's_ ability to somehow strut while on horseback was still bloody annoying!

“Did you mean what you said?” he deflected.

“About what?” Bronn asked.

“Loving me.”

The sellsword nodded.

“Aye”, he said. “I love you, kitten.”

“Do not call me that!”

Bronn just sniggered. Jaime decided that he did not like him after all.

He glanced downwards. Apparently part of him did like the sellsword – who of course was smirking knowingly at him, the bastard!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Something had changed between the two men and it was more than just the fact that Bronn had stuck his dick in Jaime's ass. When the sellsword handed him food their hands touched and remained touching for some time, while Jaime fought (unsuccessfully) to avoid blushing and Bronn just grinned. And every time it happened the younger knight found himself getting hard again, which made riding even more difficult. 

It was a vicious circle, yet he was actually happy.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

**Just north of Mediolanum² (Shropshire, English west Midlands)**  
 **195 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

They came in sight of another town but Bronn suggested that they pull off just before it and take advantage of another abandoned barn.

“Why?” Jaime asked.

“Because we don't want people to come running when you start screaming!” Bronn grinned.

Jaime scowled. As if!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Jaime screamed even louder as Bronn thrust into him yet again. His spend from his last three orgasms was splayed across the floor in front of his naked and pinioned body yet incredibly he could feel himself getting hard again, much as it hurt. 

“Wanna stop?” Bronn whispered in his ear.

“No!”

Jaime was shocked. Who had said that? Surely not him; ever part of his body hurt and oh God those calloused hands running over his chest felt so damn good! And the bastard behind him knew exactly when to change his angle so he caught that special place inside the younger knight that......

Jaime came again, this time barely having the energy to accompany it with a dull moan. He panted for breath and waited for Bronn to start up a fifth time but instead he found the leather bounds (which he could easily have worked free of if he had tried) being removed, and he was helped over (carried) to their blanket where the sellsword pulled his naked and still gasping figure into en embrace. Tears were running down the younger man's face and he felt bitterly ashamed at.....

“You enjoyed it”, Bronn said simply.

That made Jaime pause for thought. Yes, he had. He might feel physically broken like never before but with those two strong arms around him and his head resting on the older man's shoulder, he actually felt _safe_. 

“No-one has ever made love to me before”, Jaime admitted, felling ashamed at that. “Had sex with me, yes, but never that.”

“Or both”, Bronn agreed. “Rest now, kitten.”

Jaime was about to subside into sleep when he spotted it.

“'Kitten' again?'” he said testily.

“Aye”, Bronn said. “Cute and lovable, just like you.”

Jaime huffed but let it slide. He was too comfortable to make an issue out of it. For now at least.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Notes:  
1\. Northwich. Derived from the Norse _-wick_ meaning bay; the area is renowned for salt production and the traditional method of obtaining it had been to use coastal bays and evaporation. The Latin name referred to a confluence of rivers, in this case the Dane and the Weaver.  
2\. Confusingly the same name as several other Imperial towns including modern Milan, this later became Whitchurch, Shropshire. Like Ribchester it too was a veterans' settlement. The Latin name meant 'middle field'; it acquired its modern name from the white church built there after the Norman Invasion in 1066.

† † † † † † † † † † † †


	8. Chapter 8

**Pennocrucium¹ (Staffordshire, English west Midlands)**   
**162 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

How Jaime was still sitting on his horse was a miracle, he thought as they rode past the few mean houses amid what had obviously once been a major fort. That morning Bronn had fucked him again, then had gotten some weird leather contraption out of his pack which had confused the younger knight – until he had recognized it and had refused point blank any ideas the kinky bastard may have had about him wearing the thing.

Alright, he was now wearing the thing. So?

Bronn's 'gift' had been a _pteruges_ , one of the old Roman-style 'skirts' made up of strips of leather ending in points. It came, he had said, with a couple of very minor catches. One, Jaime was not allowed to wear any underwear with it. And two, the younger knight had to stop every few miles at his sellsword's command while the bastard jerked him off _still on horseback_ and then left him to ride on with an erection he could've cut bricks with. The sadist was trying to kill him!

Worst of all for what precious little remained of Sir Jaime of Calunis' manliness, at one time Bronn had just ridden up, looked hard at him for several moments and the younger knight had come on that alone! He was in some shit here.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Sir Jaime of Calunis was in more than some shit. Seriously, how had he gotten himself into a mess like this?

Bronn, the bastard, had taken advantage of the warm day and removed his upper clothing, and he spent the morning alternating between idly fondling his own muscular chest or leering unashamedly at Jaime's before riding over and taking his pleasure. Jaime was sure the human frame hadn't been designed to cope with an all-day erection, but the last time he had been fondled he had barely been able to stay on the damn horse. And then to make matters worse the sellsword had kissed him and asked if this was too much, and his traitorous body had caused his head to shake before he could say anything!

Bronn gently feeding him lunch while he lay on the sellsword's chest though – that was kinda nice. And he didn't even comment when Jaime spent the nest part of an hour napping there afterwards.

Jaime was sure he had heard the word 'kitten' at one point, though! Harrumph!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

**Letocetum² (Staffordshire, English west Midlands)**  
 **150 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

Jaime had long thought the language had some strange words in it, and one such was the phrase 'lazy fuck' used sometimes by Bronn on him and others. But that evening he finally (and very fully) came to understood the other meaning of the phrase, as he was in no shape for anything much after his all-day ordeal. Worse, Bronn had caught him sneaking behind the barn they stopped at just south of another abandoned town and just folded his arms, watching as Jaime screamed while relieving himself.

And then Bronn had taken him inside and fucked him. Not the hard torment of yesterday which would likely have ended him but a real lazy fuck, until the younger knight was crying his happiness into the chest of the sellsword. This was..... seriously, he would quite happily have thrown over being a knight if he could live out the rest of his life like this, driven continually between sexual exhaustion and unending happiness by the man whose strong arms were wrapped around him and who was seemingly determined to see if he could actually get him pregnant. Jaime wished that this would never end.

He was sure there had been another 'kitten' in there somewhere!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Notes:  
1\. A defensive settlement built when the Romans had had no intention of bothering with modern Wales and had needed a fort to keep the tribes there in check. It later became a civilian settlement, shifted its position to the north and is now modern Penkridge, Staffordshire; both names derive from the original Celtic settlement that predated them, Pencrug whose name meant 'crest of a hill'.  
2\. Wall-by-Lichfield, Staffordshire. Another military settlement that became a civilian one, in this case helped by being at a major crossroads (York to Exeter via Derby and Chester/Wroxeter to London). The Roman name derived from the Celtic settlement that predated it, Caer Luit Coyt (Fort Greywoods); the modern village arose within the ruins a long time after the Romans had left.

† † † † † † † † † † † †


	9. Chapter 9

**Alauna¹ (Warwickshire, English south Midlands)**   
**115 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

The Celtic couple whose hut was on a small hill overlooking the remains of a former town did notice the two knights riding by. There was nothing really that remarkable about them save that the younger one seemed to be suffering rather more from the warm day than the elder, and they soon ignored the rare break in their humdrum lives to get back to more important matters.

As the two horsemen rode away Jaime was indeed sweating. This however had less to do with the temperature and more with the fact that the bastard smirking a few yards away had somehow found a new way of tormenting him. He had thought that nothing could have topped yesterday, when he had come more times in a single day than ever before in his young life, and in a moment of utter stupidity last night had remarked on that fact to the sadomasochist riding with him.

When _would_ he learn? This morning he had again had to wear the _pteruges_ , but in addition Bronn had fitted him with some leather contraption that wrapped around both his waist and his cock – and as Jaime found the first time he got hard with today's round of teasing, he would not be setting another record for multiple orgasms. Because those damn straps meant he couldn't even manage one!

“Thirty miles today, I reckon”, Bronn grinned, pulling up alongside him. “How's it hanging, Jaime?”

“It is not 'hanging'”, Jaime said not at all testily. “Stick a flag on it why don't you?”

“Now _there's_ an idea!” Bronn grinned. 

The younger knight's cock strained ineffectively at the binds around its base. Jaime was gonna die from all this!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

**Some way south of Alauna (Gloucestershire, English south Midlands)**  
 **90 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

A part of Jaime wondered if this was revenge for all the times he may, by an uncharitable definition of the facts, ever so slightly have failed to fully deliver on his promises to the sellsword. Bronn had clearly decided to try to kill him through sex and, happy as Jaime (or at least one part of Jaime) was at that prospect, he wanted to reach the south coast and save his son. And he needed to be able to at least walk when he got there!

They had passed yet another abandoned settlement some time back and they were beginning to blur into each other for the younger knight. Jaime knew that Celts hated living in the towns of their former oppressors and mostly used them as building material to maintain their homes elsewhere, although he would have thought with all the Saxons coming to the country perhaps at least some places might serve at forts. But then after Arthur's great victory at Badon the previous year perhaps they felt that the invaders might soon pack up and leave for easier pickings elsewhere; after all the South Saxons had only come over when they had been soundly beaten in Gaul. Another major defeat might well drive them out for pastures new.

The bastard sellsword sat smirking across from him had said that they should have dinner before settling in for the night. Only then would he release Jaime and no amount of whining beforehand would make him change his mind. The younger knight had _not_ whined although there may have been the occasional high-pitched cough and..... and the bastard was smirking even more, damn him!

Finally after what had seemed like an interminable dinner they were done, and Jaime had probably never shucked his clothes so fast in his life before. Bronn of course undressed slowly and casually, the bastard.

“Why do you put your boots back on?” Jaime wondered in an attempt to distract himself from the volcano about to erupt in his nether regions.

“Talon's idea”, Bronn said with a grin. Keeping one item of clothing on shows I'm in charge – though I do wonder how _you'd_ look riding naked except for _your_ boots all day tomorrow!”

Jaime was sure that he felt the leather straps give a little as his cock grew even harder at that image. Bronn chuckled and eased round behind the younger knight, nuzzling at his lean neck.

“Bronn!”

“You obviously want it or you wouldn't arch your neck to give me better access”, the teasing sellsword whispered. “Ready?”

Jaime uttered another whi.... high-pitched cough.

“Please!”

A calloused hand grabbed his cock firmly by the base, somehow tightening things even more. Jaime groaned as he felt Bronn fidgeting with the leather straps until they fell away, but now it was the sellsword's hand preventing his release.”

“No! Bronnnnnnnn!”

“And.... come!”

In what little was left of his mind Jaime dimly realized the reason for the hand. Bronn was likely preventing him from possibly rupturing himself, only gradually letting him paint the floor in front of him with his spend as he achieved a glorious and seemingly endless release. The sellsword milked out the last few drops until Jaime sank in his arms, barely able to stand.

“D'you know?” Bronn said conversationally, “Talon says there are tribes in Gaul who keep the straps on for a whole week.”

Jaime's breathing was suddenly much faster. He stared at the sellsword in horror – until a horrible smirk told him that he'd been had. He would have scowled but it was just too much effort.

“I hate you!” he muttered.

Bronn looked down to where Jaime's arms were wrapped around his neck, the younger knight's body moulding itself to his own.

“Aye”, he said. “I can see just how much!”

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Notes:  
1\. Now Alcester, Warwickshire (say 'alstuh'). The English and Latin names both derive from the local river, the Alne, which in turn derives from an old word meaning restless.

† † † † † † † † † † † †


	10. Chapter 10

**Corinium¹ (Gloucestershire, English south Midlands)**   
**79 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

Lord, when _would_ he learn?

Yesterday Jaime had been sure that there was nothing Bronn could do to him that was worse than stopping him from relief for a whole damn day. Nope, absolutely nothing. And as they rode through a rare town that actually seemed to still have some life in it, that was what Bronn had given him.

Absolutely nothing.

Before setting out this morning the sellsword had told him that he was going to repeat the teasing glances, the soft touches and the sudden jerking off through the straps of the pteruges that had made Jaime hard for the whole of the previous day – except that this time there was no leather restraint. Jaime had to hold himself back by willpower alone. And if he succeeded, he would get to fuck Bronn that evening.

If he failed on the other hand.... Bronn had just looked at the younger knight who had trembled in dread at what might befall him.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

**Durocornovium² (Wiltshire, southern England)**  
 **64 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

This place seemed abandoned, Jaime thought as his eyes watered at yet another lewd suggestion by some bastard sellsword. Somehow despite all the torture and the roads seemingly being much more uneven than usual he had so far managed to hold off if only because of the prize on offer; they had swum in a small pond just off the road after lunch and the sellsword had made a point of showing his muscled ass to Jaime as much as possible. The younger knight had considered trying to use the cover of the water to snatch some brief release for a King James he could have used as a second sword, but somehow that had just seemed wrong.

Wrong. Hah!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

**Cunetio³ (Wiltshire, southern England)**  
 **53 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

Finally their destination, another place as deserted as the last one. And Jaime had almost cried when, on his getting very very carefully down from his horse the bastard sellsword had reminded him that the wager was that he had to hold out until that evening, in other words sundown. Hours away!

And Bronn didn't play fair, getting himself naked at once and splaying himself out in a way that did actually have Jaime crying because, come on! This was cruel and unusual punishment!

The sun seemed to take an age to reach the horizon and Jaime watched impatiently through the barn door as it slowly sank lower and lower. Unfortunately this was a mistake as he failed to notice a certain sneaky sellsword moving silently over to him – right up until the moment when a calloused hand placed itself on his thigh right next to......

Jaime erupted, briefly glad with what little was left of his brain that Bronn had had the consideration (!) to grab his cock and control his release. Uncaring now the younger knight screamed his release to the world and the remains of Cunetio before sinking back and trying to stop crying.

The sellsword pulled him gently into his arms.

“You did so well, my love”, he said. “I didn't think you would hold out for so long.”

Jaime subsided into his embrace, feeling utterly broken. He was just beginning to drift of to sleep when Bronn spoke again.

“Would you like to fuck me anyway?”

Jaime just glared at the fellow. As if he could even begin to get it up after that!

“Maybe tomorrow when you've had come recovery time”, Bronn chuckled. “Sleep, kitten.”

“I'm holding you to that!” Jaime muttered, before succumbing to complete exhaustion.

The 'kitten' had registered in his brain but he was too tired to say anything. And definitely not because he kinda liked it.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Notes:  
1\. Now the small town of Cirencester, Gloucestershire. Once a major crossroads with five routes to different parts of the country and the regional capital of one of the Roman sub-provinces of Britannia. Originally named for the local river, the Churn.  
2\. Now the growing town of Wanborough, Wiltshire, near the concrete-lovers' heaven that is modern Swindon. Then a regional capital for one of three British tribes all known as the Cornovii. The 'wan' is a corruption of the god Woden.  
3\. Abandoned and never resettled, but linked to the village of Mildenhall, Wiltshire, across the River Kennett which is the likely origins of the Roman name. Mildenhall means 'the hall of a man called Milda'.

† † † † † † † † † † † †


	11. Chapter 11

**Leucomagus¹ (Hampshire, southern England)**   
**35 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

Jaime was impressed. Somehow after a start to the day like that he was still on his horse. And upright.

So far, at least.

Waking up that morning had been a shock, as he was not used to a sellsword sucking his dick without warning. Then just as he had been about to blow, Bronn had rolled over and presented himself to the younger knight. And Jaime had nearly had a seizure!

“What is that?” he had demanded.

“A plug”, Bronn had grinned shamelessly. “Doubly useful, according to Talon. It means you can fuck me straight off, then I can put it back in and keep your seed in me all day.”

How Jaime had not blown there and then had been a miracle to rank alongside the loaves and fishes thing. He had staggered over to the sellsword while trying to hold himself back, grateful that Bronn had removed the plug at his approach (saving him precious seconds) and had thrust himself straight in while screaming his joy to the world. And then Bronn's insides had clamped down viciously on the intruding cock and Jaime had screamed even louder as he had come violently, emptying himself into his lover before collapsing untidily on top of him.

“Next time”, Bronn whispered as he ruffled Jaime's long hair, “it's your turn!”

Jaime just lay there, a broken man.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

So to now and yet another abandoned place. Rather odd Jaime thought, as it was at an obvious crossroads yet was totally deserted.

“You can see a new settlement in the distance”, Bronn said pointing to the south. “The river heads that way too.”

Jaime was just glad that they had two shorter runs to finish the journey with. Bronn had explained that the next place, Venta², was the tribal capital of the Belgae who were the enemies of the Jutes holding his son as a pledge and he did not want to alert either group of their presence before it was necessary. 

“I love you, kitten.”

And the bastard sellsword did it again, taking Jaime apart with a few simple words that made the younger knight sniff at how lucky he was just now.

They rode on, both smiling.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

**Venta Belgarum (Hampshire, southern England)**  
 **20 miles to Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

Bronn said that while he was fairly sure that young Gerard would be being held at the Jutes' main base at Ethling, there was a chance that he might be kept at the abandoned Roman town of Clausentum³ which had served as the port for Venta. The latter town seemed to be doing surprisingly well and Jaime wondered why.

“Look at the walls”, Bronn pointed out as they left the place. “You can see the ones to the south have been repaired. The place is being used as a fort to defend against the Jutes.”

They left the town and found a trackway leading up to a large hill overlooking it. There were buildings some way up and Bronn decided that they would do for their last night before meeting a potential enemy, as well as being off the road so they would not be seen. He sorted out food from the last of their rations and they settled in for the night. It was still unseasonably warm and they were able to lie naked on their blanket.

“Have you thought about what we do after tomorrow?” Jaime asked.

“Sellswords rarely think of the future”, Bronn said. “We live for today; we may not make it to tomorrow.”

“I do not want you to die”, Jaime said.

Bronn gently pushed back the younger knight's untidy long hair and kissed him.

“I've no intention of dying now I have you”, he said quietly. “If we can get your son back then I suppose it'll be back to Luguvalium for us. You'll hate that.”

“Why?” Jaime asked.

“Because I can hardly screw you every night while you own flesh and blood is with us!” Bronn grinned. “Nearly two weeks without sex. But not to worry – I'll more than make up for it when we get home.”

“I only promised to serve you on the way south”, Jaime pointed out.

“Kitten, you'd serve me to my dying day if I asked you.”

And damn the fellow Jaime knew that he was right. Didn't need to smirk about it that much, though!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Notes:  
1\. Rather oddly this meant 'The Great Shining'. Today the hamlet of East Anton, Hampshire, slowly being subsumed into the mess that is its modern replacement, nearby Andover.  
2\. Now the city of Winchester, Hampshire, one-time capital of Wessex and later England. Venta was another common name in this case meaning market-town, and was usually followed by the local tribal name such as the Belgae here.  
3\. Now Bitterne, an unlovely suburb of the even more unlovely Southampton. The Roman name meant 'enclosure' as the site was surrounded on three sides by the River Itchen (named for the Jutes). The modern name refers to the wading-bird.

† † † † † † † † † † † †


	12. Chapter 12

**Clausentum (Hampshire, southern England)**   
**9 miles to Ethling¹ (Hampshire, southern England)**

“Trouble with this place”, Bronn said as they rode up what had presumably once been the town's main thoroughfare, “is it's a dead-end.”

“In every sense”, Jaime agreed, uttering yet another silent prayer that he had followed Bronn's advice and brought the padded saddle. “We'll have to go back up river to cross at that ford; it's too deep here. This is depressing, specially as we can almost see across to Ethling.”

“Funny that this was supposed to be the capital of the Shore one time”, Bronn said. “They didn't give up without a fight I see.”

“How can you know that?” Jaime asked.

“The walls”, Bronn said. “They built a second set inside the first giving up part of their town to at least defend something; you could see the remains of houses both sides of the newer wall. Your boy must be at Ethling.”

“Odd name”, Jaime said. “You know something of their tongue?”

Bronn nodded.

“It means the place of the princes”, he said. “Tosh most likely; I'd wager that their leader is no more a prince that I am.”

Sir Bronn of the Black Water was incorrect – but then he knew that.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

**Ethling (Hampshire, southern England)**

Something was wrong, Jaime thought. He stared at the flag fluttering above the small fort that they had finally reached after nearly four hundred miles of travel. Blue and white diagonal lines. Unmistakeable.

“I think”, he said warily, “this trip just turned very strange.”

The gates opened as they approached and there seemed no hostile embassy sent out to them. The two rode into a well-kept enclosure that reminded Jaime not a little of Camelot the one time he'd been there, though this was nowhere near as impressive. But it was a good analogy considering the two people standing there to receive them. 

Jaime leaped down from his horse and his son ran to his arms. Bronn looked across at the other figure. 

“Hullo Lance”, he said. “Thought I recognized your colours.”

Sir Lancelot grinned.

“Safer here than at Camelot with both your sister and Guinevere around”, he said. “It was Merlin's idea; he could see that sooner or later the Queen would do something to me that would lead to trouble all round, so he arranged for me to seemingly head up to deal with the Picts but instead take a ship here. If we can't stop these men being the future then at least we can make sure they have our own folks as leaders.”

“Does Arthur know?” Jaime asked still holding his son tightly. Lancelot nodded.

“He's sending a party to Portus Adurni² in two weeks' time”, Lancelot said. “We're going to send a much bigger group to seize it first as it's one of the few places between us and the South Saxons; they'll retreat after a quick skirmish. That will greatly increase our lands.”

“So you're their king now?” Jaime asked.

“Only as a stand-in”, his cousin said. “This lot respect fighting ability but they want someone who can marry into their own line. Ger likes one of their girls and they're alright with me leading them until he has kids who grow up as their own, uniting the bloodlines. Of course that needs permission from the boy's father.”

Jaime stared, a horrible realization slowly settling over him.

“This was all a con!” he exclaimed. “To get me here!”

He rounded on a sniggering Bronn who very obviously straightened his face a shade too late.

“Were you in on it?” Jaime demanded.

“Course”, Bronn said dryly. “And I enjoyed almost every minute of our journey. Some more than others, _kitten!”_

Jaime did not blush. Much. 

“I am sorry, Father”, his son said. “But all that pining every time you drooled over Bronn here....”

“I did _not_ drool!”

“You did, Jaime”, Lancelot said. “You were worse than Guinevere over me. It was the talk of the knights' quarters. And the squires'.”

Any redder and Jaime could have passed as a tomato!

“I don't mind standing in for a bit longer”, Lancelot said. “I suspect _you_ will be far too busy being horizontal over the next few weeks, Jaime!”

Gerard winced as his father glared at Lancelot.

“He will!” Bronn growled. “In fact we had better start on that _right now!”_

And with that the bastard actually _goosed_ Jaime! Honestly the young knight thought as he let himself be dragged inside, some sellswords had no respect for their betters!

Less than ten minutes later, Sir Jaime of Calunis was beyond thinking anything.

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Notes:  
1\. Now Eling, Hampshire, a tiny village on Southampton Water almost subsumed in the nearby town of Totton. Arguably the future England's first capital.  
2\. Now Portchester, almost a mainland suburb of its replacement Portsmouth. The 'Adurni' may have been a name.

† † † † † † † † † † † †


	13. Epilogue

Thirty-three years later

**Winchester (Hampshire, southern England)**

The ceremony was short but, the twenty-five-year-old King Cynric knew, important. The kingdom had done well under his late cousin Lancelot, who had taken the Celtic name Cerdic as nominal ruler. His own grandfather Sir Jaime had been supposed to take over as being of the blood line but... somehow it had never quite happened. The old man had sulked for days when his sellsword 'friend' had used the w-word that rhymed with life for him although after a while he had come round..... no, Cynric really did not want to think about that any time before food! 

His father Gerard and mother Alica were stood by the throne making goo-goo eyes at each other again which itself was somewhere between unsettling and disgusting. His father could have advanced a claim to be king himself but it had been long agreed that Cynric, half-Celt and half-Saxon as his name suggested, would be much more acceptable to the Jutes provided he came of age. And talking of relatives where were the terrible twosome..... oh come on, not again?

Sir Jaime of Calunis had just lurched into the room, looking totally and utterly debauched. And one would not have needed the sellsword next to him with a smirk so wide the new king was amazed he had gotten through the door with it to guess the reason for his grandfather's dreadful state. Honestly, at their ages! Cynric felt fully entitled to allow himself one epic eye-roll, especially as he had just lost a bet with his wife because of the idiots.

“Sorry we're late”, Bronn grinned. “You know how some people are when it comes to clothes!”

Unfortunately Cynric did, having once made the mistake of going to the terrible twosome's room unannounced and..... he still sometimes woke at night sweating with that image in his mind. And he did not wish to be reminded of that any time within the rest of the century, thank you very much! He gave the two of them a reproving look which, he knew, would have precisely zero effect. Adults these days!

Now to set about conquering more land, he thought as Bronn whispered something in his grandfather's ear that made him blush deeply. At least facing a bunch of hostile Celtic tribes would get him away from relatives who seemed to delight in traumatizing him!

† † † † † † † † † † † †

Historical note:  
Cynric (534-560) was indeed the second king of the country that would later grow into Wessex, England, Great Britain and the United Kingdom. His ancestry was most likely mixed as his name was both Celtic and Saxon. He had an ultimately successful reign, taking advantage of a plague outbreak late in the forties to attack the weakened Celtic kingdoms, and eventually secured most of modern Wiltshire before he died and was succeeded by his son, Ceawlin.

FINIS


End file.
